


DCEU Imagines

by jnic84



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Bad people all around, F/F, F/M, GCPD, Gen, Nygmobblepot, Villains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:25:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7846843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jnic84/pseuds/jnic84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Shots and Imagine Requests that take place in the DC Movieverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All Monsters Are Human [Joker/Reader]

Summary: Arkham wasn’t just a place designed for crazy people, it was place designed to drive you crazy.  
Spoilers/Speculations based on Batman vs. Superman.

 

You had called Arkham Asylum home for far too long. The days had become weeks, then months, then years until all of them muddled together and you lost count. 

It was hard to remember a time you weren’t locked behind bars. The memories of your escapades in Gotham had begun to fade. You were growing increasingly stir crazy in your cell as time went on. 

Ivy had her plants to distract her. You envied her that. You weren’t allowed any extraneous items. Not after the last time you used some reading glasses to pick the lock to your cell. The guards seemed truly shocked at your escape attempt. You had to be crazy to try and break out of Arkham. 

But crazy you were, otherwise you wouldn’t have been locked up in Gotham’s infamous asylum. 

You were too smart for your own good. Your father always said it would get you into trouble one day. After university, you found yourself enthralled by the sciences. Most people aspired to cure diseases. You ended up creating a few. 

Catching the eye of Dr. Jonathan Crane had been your proudest moment. Aiding him in his creation of his Fear Toxin had been thrilling. Being caught by a man dressed as a bat had been a low point.

Crane had used the distraction caused by your capture to escape. He was still free while you rotted away. He should consider himself lucky that you had failed at your attempted jailbreak. He was due a gruesome death for his betrayal. 

You spent the first few months in Arkham thinking of all the ways you planned to torture and kill Crane. It was a way to pass the time. But it got old fast, and now you were left without even those pleasant thoughts for company.

The solitude ate away at you. 

Arkham wasn’t just a place designed for crazy people, it was place designed to drive you crazy.

There would be screams throughout the day and night. You would bury your head in your pillow when the shouting started. It became routine. 

And then one day it stopped. 

You had noticed the arrival of a new prisoner earlier that day, but had paid little attention. People were in and out of Arkham as fast as the Bat could catch them and the court could release them.

But ever since the newcomer’s arrival, a curious quiet surrounded you, broken only by excited whispers. Whoever it was had to be a big deal, one of Gotham’s most notorious. You supposed it could have been Penguin, he had certainly earned his spot in the asylum, and he had a way of demanding respect. Maybe it was Catwoman, and the men around you were imagining themselves a little love stricken.

You were wrong.

In the distance you could hear his laugh, broken and dark, and you knew. The Joker. 

Life had suddenly gotten more interesting.

The next day you were escorted from your cell to the resident psychiatrist’s office. Some new girl named Quinzel wanted to evaluate you. You were more interested in catching a glimpse of the newest resident.

As you passed his cell, you snuck a peek inside, surprised to see him meet your eyes with a steely gaze. You only looked away once the guards gave you an annoyed shove and told you to move. You could hear his pleased chuckle in the distance. 

Your sessions with Dr. Quinzel were dull. You never were one for introspection and she appeared distracted. 

After one session had come to an end, she hesitated to call the guard to collect you. Slipping you a small piece of paper, she glanced nervously at the door before giving you a small smile. “From Mister J,” she whispered.

You palmed the note and she called for the guard.

When you got back to your cell and the guards were no longer in view, curiosity got the better of you and you unfolded the paper.

‘I love your work, big fan’

You felt strangely elated at the unexpected praise. Dr. Crane was never one for compliments. He liked deadlines and preciseness. Emotions weren’t welcome in science. 

This strange little game of courtship, for lack of a better word, continued for a time. You’d catch glimpses of him here and there. His intense stare and manic grin intrigued you. 

You were drawn to his smile, as gruesome as it was fascinating. His mouth gleamed with the metal that had now replaced his teeth.

“The Bat broke his teeth,” Dr. Quinzel admitted with an angry hiss. “After Mister J killed that kid. What’d they call him? Robin.” She shook her head. “Batman tortured him. Some hero he is.” 

You were slightly amused by her obvious fixation on the Joker. Not that you didn’t understand, he was pretty captivating. But then again, you were a certified nutcase. You were starting to think the good doctor was too. 

A couple weeks later, Dr. Quinzel slipped you another note before sending you back to your cell. This one simply read:

‘The party’s about to start’

You could only sit and wait. 

Two days later the sound of gunshots echoed off the walls of Arkham. You slipped from your resting place and sauntered to the door of your cell, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was happening.

Shouting and screams filled the air. The guards were panicking and the inmates were hollering in excitement. The shots were rapid fire, not the standard issue pistols the guards had holstered to their belts. It sounded like a machine gun, you mused.

You caught a glimpse of some of your neighboring inmates running freely through the halls and you growled, slamming your fist against the door in frustration. Why were you still locked up while those morons ran free?

You heard an amused tsk to the right of you and were eye to eye once again with the Clown Prince of Crime.

“Now, now,” he drawled, shaking a taunting finger at you, “patience.”

“Get me out of here,” you demanded, but he merely grinned.

“Say the magic word…” he sing-songed.

“Please,” you muttered through gritted teeth. 

“That’s not it,” he teased, now waving the key to your personal prison just out of your reach. “Try again.”

“I’m going to kill you if you don’t unlock that damn door,” you spat.

Joker threw his head back, laughing. “Ding, ding, ding! I like you, so fiery!” he cackled, as he finally slid the key into the lock and turned it. You reveled in the sound of the bolts giving way.

You pushed the door away from you, leaving it wide open. You wanted nothing more than to run into the melee, to freedom, but your mind still had you trapped.

His hand, so pale it nearly shone in the dark, entreated you. “Come on, baby,” his voice was temptingly low. 

Your fingers danced along his palm and he took your hand in an unforgiving grip, pulling you towards him violently. Your body met his roughly and your heart pounded with excitement.

“It’s time to play,” he leered, his smile too wide and his eyes too bright. You could hear Dr. Quinzel yelling in the distance. 

His grin managed to widen. “I can’t wait to show you my toys.”

The tiny bit of your conscience that remained told you to flee, but you stamped it down without a second thought. It was time you had some fun. And after fun would come revenge.


	2. Man Flu (Edward Nygma x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Man Flu
> 
> Pairing: Edward Nygma x Reader
> 
> Request: A Gotham fic, where Ed is very sick and the reader takes care of him.

You hadn’t been working for the Gotham City PD for very long. Your job wasn’t exactly thrilling seeing as you spent most of the day hidden away in the records room. But considering the notorious nature of Gotham, you didn’t mind a little boring.

Grabbing the file that had been requested, you headed for the Medical Examiner’s office. Dr. Thompkins had been one of the first people to welcome you to the department. She was warm and pleasant, which admittedly surprised you since she worked with corpses all day long.

But the file wasn’t for Lee. It was for the curious man who shared her office, Edward Nygma.

If Lee had welcomed you with open arms, Edward made sure to keep you at a distance.

You understood, after all the man was going through a rough time. According to office gossip, his girlfriend had recently eloped with her ex. You were sure to be something of a reminder for him, considering you had replaced her in the records room. 

Knocking on the door softly to announce your arrival, you opened it to see Edward hunched over a microscope. 

“I brought the file you asked for, Mr. Nygma,” you said brightly, trying to remain positive in the face of his likely indifference.

“Thank you,” he muttered, voice cracking slightly. He only looked up from the microscope when a coughing fit hit him. Burying his face in the crook of his elbow, his body shook with the force of his coughs. After a moment, it finally passed and he was able to take a shuddering breath.

Glancing towards the doorway, he observed that you were still there, but it was the obvious concern in your eyes that caught him by surprise. Not many people bothered to concern themselves with him. He had always been the nerd, the loser, an easy target for all the bullies that ran rampant in the department.

At least he had been until Officer Dougherty’s death. His confidence had surged after that. But Kristen’s death had been a shock to his system. He knew who he was then, who he was meant to be. The opinion of others didn’t bother him anymore.

That’s why it was stunning that the compassion in your eyes caused such a reaction in him. He felt something akin to pleasure at the sight of your worry for him.

“Are you all right, Mr. Nygma?” You inquired with a frown, brow furrowed when you noticed how pale he had become. “You look terrible!” you blurted out, then began to turn red in embarrassment. “I mean, you don’t look terrible, you’re very handsome” you rambled as Edward cocked his head to the side. “You just look like you might be ill. Are you? Ill?”

When the words finally stopped tumbling from your lips, you were sure you appeared as awkward as you felt. Edward looked to be studying you with an intensity you had never seen in a person before.

And then he sneezed.

Feeling a little flustered, Ed scrambled for a tissue, blowing his nose rather indelicately. Surely, he thought bemusedly, you couldn’t think him handsome now. 

It was in amazement that he dared at glance at you from over his glasses and he didn’t see you recoil. Instead you took a tentative step forward and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

“I have a bit of a cold,” he relented, and you smiled in amusement at his put out tone of voice.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you shook your head with a tiny laugh when he looked on the verge of pouting. “I tend to get colds all the time,” you confessed. “It’s the weather in Gotham, I think. I keep a supply of cold medicine in my purse. Would you like me to get it? It might make you feel a little less miserable.”

“That…would be nice,” he cautiously accepted your offer with a tilt of his head.

“I’ll be right back, Mr. Nygma,” you chirped as you spun towards the door. His voice stopped you before you could leave.

“You—you can call me Ed,” he announced, not expecting much of a reaction. The warm smile you gave in answer sent a rush of heat to his chest. But maybe that was just his fever.

“I’ll be right back, Ed,” you practically skipped back to your desk, happy with the progress you had made with your reluctant coworker. He appeared to be warming up to you. You didn’t know why so many people in the department gave him such a hard time. He seemed nice, if a little quirky. 

Edward almost didn’t expect you to return. He tried not to expect much from the people he worked with. They were usually total disappointments, not even worthy of his time. 

But return you did, with medicine and a fresh cup of tea. 

You set the items on the only surface you spotted without a body or a bone saw on it, happy to see a wide, if tired, grin on his face.

“In case you have a sore throat,” you explained. “I thought the tea might be soothing.”

“I appreciate the thought,” he admitted. The two of you stood in an easy silence, before you realized you still had an actual job to do.

“I should get back to work,” you recalled with a self-conscious smile. “But if you need anything, please let me know. I’m here to help.”

“I’ll do that,” he assured you with a tiny sniffle. With a jaunty little wave, you headed out of the Medical Examiner’s office, taking no notice of the eyes that followed your every move.

Only when you were out of sight did Edward turn away, taking a sip of tea and considering the gesture.

He had assumed you were just like the others, unworthy of his attention. But you showed concern over his ill health, offered him aid, and seemed truly pleased when he exhibited any sign of approval. Perhaps he should nurture this connection. No one could replace Kristen, but Ed had begun to put her in the past. She was his old self’s obsession. He was in search of renewed focus.

And at the very least, you would make for a welcome distraction.


	3. See Me (Nygmobblepot) Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: See Me
> 
> Pairing: Edward Nygma x Oswald Cobblepot 
> 
> Summary: Oswald tries to talk a little sense into his friend.

“I think I’m in love!” 

Ed’s smile was a mile wide as he thought back to the woman who had entered his life like a godsend. While Edward was positively giddy at his announcement, Oswald could barely hide his shock.

“How long have you known this woman?” he asked incredulously. Ed’s head was so far in the clouds he didn’t seem to notice the near contempt in his friend’s voice.

“Two days,” Ed fluttered and Oswald wasn’t able to contain his audible scoff. “You don’t understand,” he defended, finally meeting Oswald’s eyes as he attempted to reassure him. “She’s…perfect. She adores riddles, she isn’t afraid of my past, god she’s the spitting image of Miss Kringle—”

“And that doesn’t set off any alarm bells?” Oswald croaked, voice high in disbelief. “A carbon copy of your ex-girlfriend, who you happened to kill, shows up with a fondness for riddles and a thing for criminals? She’s too perfect! How can you not see that?”

His entire body felt tense, muscles taut and vein pulsing in his neck. This couldn’t be happening. Ed, who he had come to treasure, was falling for the tricks of some floosy with the face of a dead woman. 

“Oswald,” Ed sighed, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, “Isabella is not part of some nefarious conspiracy,” he tutted. “Really, if you only spent more time with her, you would know.”

“Fine,” Oswald stammered, waving away his previous argument. “Let’s pretend she’s not an obvious attempt to divert you from our plans.” Ed frowned. “You told me that love is a weakness. My mother, Miss Kringle, they made us vulnerable! You said we were better off without them! We are stronger!” 

“I was wrong,” Ed hesitated to admit. He didn’t like to believe he had been mistaken, Ed wasn’t one to make mistakes, but he was forced to humble himself. 

“You were right!” Oswald countered, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. “Love leaves us powerless and—and I’ve worked too hard to let foolish sentiments like love ruin my plans!” 

“I don’t understand,” Ed confessed, brows furrowed. 

“Of course you don’t,” Oswald laughed humorlessly. “Love is for children and idiots. It leaves you exposed and helpless, and I am not helpless!”

“Wait,” Ed paused, thinking over his friend’s words carefully. “Is that what this is about? You’re in love?” Oswald froze, the anger spurred by his rant disappearing to be replaced with mortification. “And because of what I said earlier, you view love as a fault,” he shook his head minutely.

“I was wrong, old friend!” Ed exclaimed, clapping his hands on Oswald’s shoulders. “Love is wonderful. We should never let it go! You must tell this person how you feel. You will only be made stronger. Just look at me!”

Oswald did look at Ed, studying his contagious smile, the thrill in voice, and the complete obliviousness in his eyes. His secret was safe, and he could no longer tell if that was a good thing.

“Yes, look at you,” Oswald forced a grin, taking a step out of Ed’s embrace. “You look…happy.” Ed nearly giggled in agreement. 

Oswald knew what love really was. It was sacrifice, it was pain. So he would do what he did best. He would keep his feelings close to his chest, and let no one, not even the man he loved, see his heartache.

He would not be made weak by something so pedestrian as love.

And when Isabella finally played her hand, he would be there to help Ed pick up the pieces.


End file.
